


The Best Way to Say Thank You

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Brownies, Cock Worship, Dirty Talk, Firefighter Derek Hale, First Meetings, Hairy Derek Hale, Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shower Sex, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: After a very handsome fireman saves him from his burning apartment building, Stiles takes some homemade brownies down to the local firehouse to thank him in person. He gets more than he bargained for when he finds the fireman in the showers.





	The Best Way to Say Thank You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poke360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poke360/gifts).
  * Translation into Español available: [The Best Way to Say Thank You (Traducción)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686643) by [lbp98l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbp98l/pseuds/lbp98l)



> I'd just like to say a huge thank you here to everyone who has read my fics. A couple days ago I reached the milestone of 1,000,000 total hits and couldn't be happier. Here's to 1,000,000 more! \o/

Stiles is slow to come out of sleep. His mind isn't quite processing what it is his nose is picking up, but when he hears a scream and the blaring of an alarm somewhere below him, he jackknifes up in his bed and looks around the tiny bedroom of his equally tiny apartment. Nothing seems amiss in the room itself, but behind the curtains of the only window he can see an odd flickering glow. At first he thinks it's early in the morning and the sun is just coming up, but then he puts the glow together with the scream and the alarm that is still ringing presumably throughout the whole building and he realises what's really happening.

The building is on fire, which means he has to get out. _Now_.

Terrified, Stiles flings back the sheets and swings his legs out of bed. Clad in his Deadpool boxers and a ratty old T-shirt that used to belong to his dad, he pauses just long enough to grab his phone from his nightstand and then rushes out of the bedroom. He moves toward the door to his apartment, dread making his stomach feel heavy when it gets progressively hotter with every step he takes, the air becoming more oppressive. There can only be one explanation for that, which is that the fire is a lot closer than he'd hoped.

Sure enough, when Stiles has unlocked his door and touches the metal doorknob, he recoils when it burns him.

"Mother-fucker!" he exclaims, looking down at where his palm is already slightly pink and shiny.

His heart beating in his ears, he gets his army jacket from where it's hung up on a hook to his left and wraps it around the doorknob so that he can actually get his hand on it long enough to turn it.

When he succeeds, the first thing that happens is smoke floods inside his apartment. He doubles over and coughs violently when, in his shock, he inhales a decent amount of it. His eyes water and he thinks he might just throw up. He is so lost in trying not to, fighting the convulsing in his stomach, that he doesn't hear someone approaching him with heavy, urgent footsteps until he feels a large hand gripping his shoulder.

Startling, Stiles looks up to see another man in front of him. He is clad in full firefighting gear.

 _Oh thank God,_ Stiles thinks.

"Come on, Sir," the fireman says, taking his arm in a firm yet gentle grip and guiding him out of his apartment.

Stiles lets the fireman lead the way and tries to block out everything around him until they are safely outside and he is being told to get into the back of an ambulance.

"Stay here, okay?" the fireman entreaties. "Let them check you over."

Able to concentrate a bit better now, Stiles is surprised by how damn beautiful this fireman is. His hair is short and dark, his hazel eyes are enchanting and his features are strong and pretty at the same time, his chiselled jaw framed by a neatly trimmed beard. Stiles nods dumbly, which satisfies the fireman enough to leave him in the capable hands of the medic who proceeds to ask him a bunch of questions.

As he answers them as best he can and is then given oxygen, most of Stiles' mind is still on the handsome fireman who rescued him.

* * *

A week later, Stiles leaves his dad's house with a pan of freshly baked brownies in hand. He'd had to move back in after the fire, but he doesn't mind. It gave his dad peace of mind after the scare of almost losing him, and it provides a nice safety net for Stiles until he can get back on his feet and find somewhere else affordable and salubrious to live.

After the fire, he'd been whisked off to Beacon Hills Memorial with several other tenants, where he was given a more thorough examination. Luckily, while his lungs and throat had still been sore from the smoke he'd inhaled, he hadn't inhaled enough to do any lasting damage, and after spending a single night in the hospital he was released and simply told to take it easy for a while. If he'd had his way, Stiles would have been out of the house a lot sooner than today, but his dad had fussed over him, even taking some time off work to look after him, and Stiles didn't have the heart to stop him.

Today marks the first day that Stiles managed to convince his dad that he was fine to go out again, and he has a plan, one he'd thought of while his dad had him on strict bedrest.

While he was just lying in his bed watching TV or reading, he still hadn't been able to get that hunky fireman out of his head. Maybe the man is straight or already seeing someone, but you never know until you ask, and so that's what Stiles is going to do. He's going to go down to the firehouse under the pretence of thanking the fireman in person, and while he's there, he'll flirt a bit—in his own nerdy, awkward way—and ask some subtle questions to figure out if the fireman is interested and available. It's a foolproof plan, as far as Stiles is concerned.

No one can resist his wiles.

(Lydia Martin in high school doesn't count.)

The drive to the firehouse is quick—it isn't that far away—and then determination carries Stiles right through the entrance. He flags down the first person he sees.

"Yeah?" the man enquires. From his baggy yellow trousers it's clear he's a fireman too, only nowhere near as attractive as the one who saved Stiles. He has shaggy blond hair and a slight paunch stretching out his black T-shirt beneath his suspenders.

"I'm looking for someone," Stiles says, feeling the first tingle of uncertainty. He pushes through it. "He saved me from a fire at my building a week ago and I wanted to thank him."

The other man points to the brownies. "S'that what those are for?"

"Uh-huh. I baked them this morning. And now I'm wondering if he even likes brownies."

The fireman chuckles. "Who is it?"

"I don't know his name, but…" Stiles gives a short description of the man who saved him. He attempts to avoid saying anything that will give away his true interest, but he must fail because the blond man chuckles again and regards him knowingly.

"You're talking about Hale," he says. "I swear, that guy has all the luck."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. We're technically not supposed to do this, but c'mon. I'll show you where he is."

"Cool."

Stiles trails after the blond man through several hallways, until they reach a door leading into a locker room.

"He's in there," the man says.

Stiles smiles gratefully at him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The blond fireman walks away again and leaves Stiles on his own. He straightens his back and steps inside the locker room. "Hello?" he calls, seeing no one in there at first. The room is reasonably sized, with some benches on the right and a row of lockers against the left wall. A couple of the lockers are open and empty, presumably not assigned to anyone who works in the firehouse, but most are taken. On the benches there is a single duffel bag. It's partially unzipped and has a sweat-stained grey tank top hanging out of it.

"Hello?" Stiles calls again.

It's then that he hears a noise. Soft humming. It comes from further in, from around a tiled wall. Stiles follows the sound and doesn't figure out that these are the showers until he has already turned the corner. He almost drops the brownies out of surprise, because right in front of him is a Greek god.

The fireman who had saved him—Hale, he'd been called; must be his last name—stands completely naked beneath the spray of one of the shower heads. All Stiles can see is the back of him, but that's more than enough. His back is broad, the muscles beneath tanned skin rippling as he works some shampoo into the dark hair on his head. Between his shoulder blades he has a tattoo of a symbol Stiles has never seen before. It's like three spirals that meet together in the middle. It was done in black ink. Stiles wonders what it means.

Lower down, Stiles drools when he gets a good look at the fireman's ass. He has seen plenty of asses in his time—mostly in porn, but there have been a few in real life too—but none of them compare to the fireman's tight globes. He is muscular here as well, and while there is a line at his waist where his skin becomes slightly paler, his ass is still tanner than Stiles' own. And the best part—at least according to Stiles—is that the fireman's ass is nice and hairy. Ever since he realised and accepted his bisexuality back in his junior year of high school, Stiles has found that he prefers his men with some hair on their bodies, and the discovery that the fireman, who he was already crushing hard on, has a hairy ass is just delightful.

Stiles fantasises for a moment about getting down on his knees and shoving his face between the fireman's hair-dusted cheeks, but he somehow resists.

At least for now.

Then, just as Stiles has finished admiring the strength of his hairy legs, the fireman turns around to wash the shampoo out of his hair. At first, Stiles is worried that he will be caught and his act of voyeurism will come to an end. He really shouldn't just be standing there staring at a stranger in the first place, so if the fireman did notice him and sent him away, it would be a shame but also understandable. But Stiles is glad for the fact that the naked man has his eyes closed and his head tipped back into the shower spray, still oblivious to his audience of one.

Stiles takes advantage of the opportunity before this changes.

The first thing about the fireman's front that captures Stiles' attention is his chest. Just like the rest of him, his pecs are large and toned.

He has yet more dark hair here too. It doesn't cover the entirety of his pecs. It starts in an almost straight line at his collarbones and travels down in the shape of an upside-down triangle, missing the outsides of his pecs nearly entirely. His nipples are pebbled and suckable, even though the steam coming from the shower means the fireman can't be cold at all. His chest hair continues down from the point of the inverted triangle, descending in a line down the centre of his well-defined abdominal muscles and beyond. Stiles follows this line with his eyes until it connects with the fireman's pubes, which are wild and untamed.

He doesn't know why, given the hair on the rest of his body, but the fireman not being shaved or at least trimmed down there surprises him. He gets why a lot of men do it—no one wants pubic hair getting in their teeth or stuck in the back of their throat when they're trying to give a blowjob—but Stiles is actually incredibly glad that the man in front of him apparently hasn't bought into the craze of manscaping. He definitely prefers a full bush to none, which he believes makes men look like little boys down there, and that isn't something Stiles wants to be thinking about when he is in bed with them. It's presumptuous as hell, but the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about such comparisons entering his mind were he in bed with this fireman makes Stiles even more hopeful that his coming down to the firehouse might actually result in something.

A good lay, at the very least.

Maybe more— _God_ , Stiles doesn't even know this man's first name and he wants more. He's too much of a romantic.

Shaking his head to stop himself from getting too ahead of himself, Stiles continues perusing the fireman's body. Next is probably the best part:

His cock.

 _Damn, that's big,_ he thinks. He knows his mouth is wide open, but he can't close it.

The fireman's hairy balls hang low between his thick thighs, around the size of golf balls, and above that hangs his cock. Even while soft it's sizeable, maybe three-and-a-half inches or even four, and the head is hidden by ample foreskin, which Stiles' gaze lingers on the longest. His own cock is cut, and the same has been true about the few guys he hooked up with in college, so an intense desire and curiosity strikes him. He wants to touch, to experience what the fireman's foreskin feels like against his hand, in his mouth.

Looking up from his cock, Stiles is shocked to find that the fireman's hazel eyes are now open and trained on him. They're intense, and he can't look away from them.

"H-hi…" he says pathetically.

"Hello," the fireman replies. Now that he isn't reeling from the fire and can actually concentrate on it, Stiles finds his voice silky and very, very sexy.

When an awkward silence follows, Stiles clears his throat. "Do you remember me?"

The fireman squints slightly. "Vaguely."

"Oh, well…you saved me from a fire in my apartment building last week," Stiles explains. He sees recognition appear on the fireman's face. "That's why I'm here; I wanted to say a proper thank you in person."

"What's that in your hand?"

Stiles looks down at the tray he somehow hadn't dropped. "I baked brownies."

"For me?"

"Yeah."

"And instead of saying something and giving them to me, you decided to stand and stare?"

At first, Stiles panics because he is obviously being called out for his creepy behaviour. He raises his gaze back to the naked man's face, intending to apologise profusely and then run away before he can be yelled at, but he doesn't see anger on the fireman's stupidly pretty features but amusement instead.

"Uh…you were distracting," he excuses. "I wasn't exactly expecting to find you, y'know, like that."

"You went into a locker room and then to the showers looking for me and didn't expect me to be naked?" The fireman chuckles. "That's funny."

Stiles can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. "Yeah, well…I'm a funny guy."

"Do you have a name, funny guy?"

Still blushing furiously, Stiles gives it.

"I'm Derek," the fireman reciprocates, which is good because now Stiles can stop referring to him as 'the fireman' in his head.

"Great. Anyway, I'm s-sorry for intruding," the younger man stammers, backing up a step. "I'll leave the brownies on a bench or something and get out of your hair."

"I'd prefer for you to get into it, actually."

Freezing, Stiles can't believe his ears. He must have misheard. "What?"

"I was done showering," Derek says softly. He begins walking forward, his impressive junk swinging back and forth with each step. "But now that you're here…"

The sentence is left unfinished, and Stiles can no longer seem to get his body to obey him as Derek walks right up to him and doesn't stop until there are mere inches between them and he can feel the heat of his body, even through his clothes. _He's gonna make me ask,_ Stiles realises, all the blood in his body that isn't already in his face rushing south. His chinos very quickly feel tight in the crotch. "Now that I'm here?" he prompts.

Derek grins, showing off straight white teeth. The front two in the top row are slightly too long, reminding Stiles of a rabbit. It's adorable.

"I was wondering if you'd feel like joining me," Derek finally finishes.

"You'd…you'd be down for that?"

Derek's grin turns into a smirk. "I'd be _down_ for a lot of things. Would you?"

And now Stiles is fully hard. "Y-yeah," he answers breathily.

"Awesome."

In the next second, Derek curls a hand around the back of Stiles' neck and brings their mouths together. The kiss starts out surprisingly slow, but then Derek flicks his tongue out over the seam of Stiles' lips and it gets much more passionate. Stiles opens his mouth on a gasp and, when Derek starts kissing him with fervour, one hand up in his hair and the other sliding down his back until his fingers dip beneath the waistband of Stiles' red chinos, he actually does drop the tray of brownies.

Derek pulls him forward so that their bodies are flush together and the droplets of water glistening on his hairy chest soak into Stiles' T-shirt. The younger man moans into Derek's mouth when he feels Derek's hard cock pressed up against his own. He wraps his arms around him, hardly believing that this is really happening. He'd been hoping for something, sure, maybe to get a phone number when he first arrived at the fire station and then maybe not to get punched when he spied on Derek in the showers. But this surpasses all of those expectations, especially when Derek starts walking them blindly back toward said showers, their mouths still connected.

"What d'you want?" Derek murmurs against his lips.

"Huh?"

"What do you want?" Derek repeats. "Full-on sex or…?"

"Won't someone walk in and see us? I'm not really into exhibitionism."

Derek chuckles. "Voyeurism is more your kink, huh?"

Stiles worries his bottom lip between his teeth, embarrassed. "Uhh…"

"Relax," Derek tells him, kissing him again. It's chaste this time. "No one else is gonna come in here."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know the routines of my coworkers like the back of my hand."

"Oh. Okay then."

"You didn't answer my question."

Stiles hums. "Guess I didn't." He takes a step back and looks down between their bodies, at where Derek's cock sticks out long, hard and proud from his untamed pubes. "I kinda wanna get my mouth on you."

Derek's cock twitches and he draws in a sharp breath. "I'm not gonna stop you."

Not caring that the knees of his chinos are getting wet, Stiles slithers down to kneel in front of Derek, putting his erection right in his face. It's very impressive. He was big when he was flaccid, so Stiles already figured he'd be big when he got hard. He was right.

While fully erect, Derek's cock measures somewhere between eight and nine inches and is super girthy. It's definitely the biggest cock that Stiles has ever seen in real life, and having it so close makes it seem even bigger. Even when hard, the bulbous head is still partially hidden by the foreskin, and Stiles is struck by the urge to slip his tongue beneath this wrinkled skin and see if the taste is stronger there. Probably not right now, seeing as Derek has just finished washing himself, but Stiles' wants to taste anyway. He is grateful that the fireman patiently stood there and let him admire his cock, but Stiles is done now.

Needing no guidance, he wraps his right hand around the base of Derek's erection, his fingers tangling in coarse dark curls, and gives it a stroke. Pre-come already beads at the slit. Stiles swipes his tongue over it to collect it and moans loudly as its saltiness bursts across his taste buds. He loves giving blowjobs, loves the taste and feel of a nice cock in his mouth. The saltiness riles him up, makes him impatient to take more of Derek past his lips.

"That's it, baby," Derek encourages him, running the fingers of both hands through Stiles' hair.

Stiles looks up the length of his hairy torso and meets his hooded eyes as he fits another couple inches in his mouth. He stops when the head hits the back of his throat, but only for as long as it takes to be sure that his gag reflex isn't going to make an unwelcome appearance. When he is, Stiles keeps going until Derek's cock is in his throat. He manages to take most of the long length on his first attempt, his nose just missing the curls at the base before he has to pull back again to refill his lungs with oxygen. He hears Derek making the most amazing sounds above him, moans and quiet little growls as Stiles licks over the head of his cock and then up and down the shaft.

Next, Stiles uses a hand to push Derek's cock up and out of the way so that he can lavish his balls with some attention too. He can only fit one in his mouth at a time, but he doesn't mind. He goes slowly, enjoying how the wrinkled skin still tastes slightly musky even though it has just been cleaned, how the dark hairs sprinkled across it tickle his tongue.

"Come up here," Derek commands while Stiles' mouth is still full. He tugs on his hair.

"What is it?" Stiles asks, concerned as he gets back to his feet.

"Nothing."

In the next second, Derek tears frantically at Stiles' clothes. All Stiles can do is raise his arms when Derek tugs his T-shirt off over his head and throws it in the corner of the showers. Next to go are his shoes, socks and chinos, leaving him in just his underwear. Before Derek removes those too, Derek spins them around and shoves him into the wall. Stiles holds his hands up just in time to prevent himself from breaking his nose on the damp tiles.

"Gonna eat you out," Derek murmurs behind him, his voice filled with lust that makes it sound even sexier. "Get you ready for my cock."

Stiles' hole clenches at the thought. "Please…" he says a little desperately.

"You want that? Want me to fill you up?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Good."

As he gets down on his knees like Stiles had been a minute ago, he brings Stiles' underwear with him. Once the younger man has stepped out of them, they join the rest of his clothes in the corner and Derek wastes no more time. He takes Stiles' pale, mole-dotted cheeks in hand, pulls them apart and purses his lips to blow a stream of cool air right over the younger man's tight pucker. He enjoys how it twitches and clenches up even tighter.

"Get ready," Derek warns him, a mere second before he dives right in.

Stiles' hands spasm where he still has them pressed to the wall when he first feels Derek's tongue swirling around his rim. He hasn't been rimmed in a while and had forgot how good it can feel. He arches his back, pushing his ass back onto Derek's face, and he rests his forehead against the cool tiles when Derek starts eating him out even more enthusiastically, his beard scraping over the insides of his ass cheeks. He is going to have some major beard burn the next day, which should make sitting down even more interesting than taking Derek's huge cock is going to. He looks forward to it, to the reminder of what is going to happen soon. If this hookup doesn't end with him getting Derek's number, then at least he'll have that irrefutable proof.

Eventually, Stiles gasps when he feels Derek wiggle one of his thick fingers in alongside his tongue. Saliva slicks the way, but it still burns a little bit because it's not really a proper substitute for lube. He bears it, though, not wanting to do anything that might bring things to a premature end. Thankfully, the burn dissipates quickly and Stiles is left moaning again when Derek curls his finger and grazes his prostate.

"There it is…" Derek murmurs, sounding pleased with himself.

The next few minutes are almost torturous for Stiles. One finger turns into two, and then three, as Derek continues his assault on his prostate, making Stiles' legs shake.

"Think you're ready?" Derek asks him. He presses purposefully against that wonderful spot one last time before withdrawing his fingers and standing up. His front is a line of heat against Stiles' back.

"Y-yeah…want you," Stiles responds, grinding his ass back against the hardness he can feel between his cheeks.

"Okay."

Stiles hears Derek spit on his palm and then the sounds of him slicking himself up. Before he knows it, Derek has the head of his big cock poised to enter his body. He clenches up instinctively, nearly ruining all the work the fireman has just done to loosen his hole. Derek kisses the side of his neck and runs the hand not holding his own cock down Stiles' side to soothe him. He tells him to breathe, and Stiles can do nothing but obey.

After several deep breaths, his body relaxes and Derek feeds him the first couple inches. The head is the hardest part to take, splitting him apart in ways that not even three of Derek's fingers had done, but once it's inside, the rest of the fireman's cock slides in with astounding ease. It's still a lot to take, Stiles' ass burning all over again, worse than when Derek slid his first finger into him. For a moment Stiles thinks it's actually going to be too much, that he'll have to tell Derek to pull back out and they'll be forced to call this whole thing off. The thought galvanises him, and when there are only two more inches left to go he pushes back and forces them in, pain be damned.

"Whoa," Derek says, stunned into inaction. "You okay?"

"Gimme a minute. You're pretty damn huge, dude."

Derek gives a slightly breathless chuckle. "I know."

"Cocky."

Derek shows more patience while Stiles gets used to being so full. He keeps kissing the side of his neck, littering the vulnerable flesh with bruises and love-bites until Stiles is sure no amount of makeup would be enough to cover the evidence of this tryst. It'll be a bit embarrassing, especially seeing as he is back living at home and won't be able to avoid seeing his dad in person before the marks fade. Even so, Stiles doesn't stop Derek. He even tilts his head further to the side, giving the fireman an even bigger area of pale skin to turn purple and red.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Stiles thinks he is ready. "Okay, you can move."

Derek sucks one last time on the patch of skin behind Stiles' ear and then says, "Thank god," his breath making Stiles shudder.

The first withdrawal makes Stiles feel like he has been hollowed out, a sensation that is made worse by the fact that Derek pulls out all the way. Now that the space has been made for the fireman's massive cock, as soon as it's gone Stiles wants it back again, wants the empty space inside of his body to be filled again. He says as much, which must have been what Derek was angling for, if the way he chuckles darkly right next to Stiles' ear is anything to go by.

 _Bastard,_ Stiles thinks, his breath hitching when Derek pushes back inside.

With every thrust it gets easier, smoother, until Stiles' ass is no longer so tight and Derek is able to fuck him without causing him discomfort. Stiles digs his fingers into the shower wall, his palms slipping over the slick surface of the white tiles. He gasps when, with another thrust, Derek changes the angle slightly and manages to hit his prostate again. Somehow it seems more intense than when Derek hit it with his fingers. Maybe it's the shock of it. Stiles doesn't really care why. He doesn't have the capacity to care, really. His mind is already blank, his forehead smacking against the wall as he just holds on for the ride and experiences all the wonderful sensations Derek is inspiring in him. He can't control the noises that fall from his parted lips, the breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers as Derek moves inside of him, his large hands gripping his hips tightly.

"Good?" Derek asks him, his voice low and gravelly.

"Don't…stop…" Stiles tells him.

"Wasn't gonna."

As if to prove it, Derek speeds up. He fucks Stiles even harder, his heavy balls slapping into Stiles'. It doesn't take long for Stiles to feel the familiar tingling in his lower gut that tells him he is getting close to coming. He takes one of his hands off of the wall to jerk himself off, but Derek grabs his wrist before he can reach his aching dick.

"But—"

"I'll do it."

Stiles blinks and puts his hand back where it was. "O-okay."

True to his word, Derek reaches around Stiles' body and takes his cock in hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. It's both remarkably coordinated and too much—the feeling of Derek's huge cock fucking in and out of his asshole; the tight, calloused perfection of his hand around his erection; the little growling sounds he is making close to Stiles' ear. An embarrassingly small number of strokes later, Stiles shoots off like a rocket, splattering the tiles with his come. He doesn't remember ever having an orgasm this powerful, and by the time it's over his legs are shaking all over again and Derek actually has to hold him up as he chases his own orgasm.

"Almost…" the fireman grits out, fucking into Stiles' hole a few more times before his thrusts become jerky.

Stiles purposefully clenches his hole repeatedly to help him get there, and then Derek fucks inside one last time and stays buried to the hilt. It's probably just his imagination, but Stiles believes he can actually feel Derek coming—not very clearly, but there is a distinct warmth in his gut as Derek's come paints his insides.

"That was amazing," Derek mumbles a minute later, his forehead pressed to the back of Stiles' neck.

Stiles laughs happily. "I'll say. Your dick is awesome, dude."

Derek snorts and pulls out, turning the grin on Stiles' face into a grimace as come dribbles down the backs of his thighs. Being filled up was so hot in the moment, but now that the fog of lust is gone from his brain, it's kind of gross. _Good thing we're in the right place to clean up again._

For the next few minutes, they shower in silence, both washing off the sweat and come from their bodies. Derek leaves to get Stiles an extra towel as he'd only brought one for himself, and then they each dress. Stiles frowns when he is no longer naked and looks down at himself. The knees of his chinos are still damp, and he prays that no one will see him walking out of the locker room and correctly deduce just how they came to be that way.

"So…" he says awkwardly, picking the brownies up from where he'd dropped them.

"So," Derek echoes, standing a couple feet away in a pair of jeans and a light-grey henley that hugs the muscles of his torso.

"This was fun."

"It was."

Of course Derek would be difficult. Stiles rolls his eyes and asks, "D'you wanna see each other again?"

* * *

Half an hour later, Stiles walks inside his dad's house to find him putting his shoes on in the foyer. He is already in his ugly beige uniform.

"What's with the face?" the sheriff asks him.

"Huh?"

"Your face. What put that smile on it?"

Stiles clears his throat and tries to get rid of said smile, but his lips won't obey him. "Oh, it's nothing." _Please don't notice the hickeys._

His dad levels with him a stern look that really shouldn't work on him anymore. "Stiles."

"What?"

"Does this have anything to do with the brownies you baked earlier?"

"Maybe."

"And?"

"I went down to the firehouse to say a proper thank you to the fireman who saved me."

"And it went well, I take it?"

Stiles walks past his dad before he can see the blood rush to his face. The piece of paper with Derek Hale's phone number on it burns a hole in his pocket. "You could say that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Poke360 for giving me this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be.
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, in which everyone in Beacon Hills is a were-creature whose heats take place during the full moon. To help him through his, Stiles, an omega werefox, has his sights set on the alpha werewolf Derek.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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